Survival
by dancer51
Summary: The Jump Street team learns things about each other and themselves when they must work together to escape with their lives.
1. Issues

Title: Survival Author: balletdancer51 Rating: PG-13 Archive: You guys can put it where you want, just let me know where so I can get feedback. Synopsis: On a new case, the whole Jump Street team discovers things about themselves and each other when they must work together to escape with their lives. Standard Disclaimer: 21 Jump Street and its characters are the property  
  
of Stephen J. Cannell, et al. I don't own them, and I'm not using them  
  
for profit.  
  
Hanson crouched down behind the Oldsmobile, listening carefully for sounds of footsteps or breathing. He wiped away the sweat that was dripping into is eyes, and moved farther down the aisle of parked cars.  
"Hey Hanson!" a gruff voice yelled out, and he looked toward where he thought it was coming from. There was no way he was going to answer. He knew they were trying to goad him into giving up his position. He shuffled a little farther, then stopped and changed direction as another voice yelled, "We know you're a rotten narc!"  
Took you long enough to figure it out, Hanson thought to himself. He had been sure his cover had been blown multiple times during this case, but the drug pushers had never suspected a thing. Morons.  
Pursuing footsteps an aisle over in a crouched run, Hanson dodged and weaved through cars, escaping ricocheting bullets. Coming out from his hiding place, he tackled the kid he had heard trying to sneak up on him. Quickly subduing the teen, Hanson called out to his friends, who had ceased fire the moment their friend hit the pavement.  
"Everybody out now, or I blow his brains out!" Three pairs of hands raised into the air, followed by the rest of the compatriots of the scum on the ground. They looked on dubiously, but they threw their guns on the ground nonetheless.  
Come on, Doug. He looked over his shoulder for the flash of lights he was hoping for. His backup was late, as per usual lately, and he didn't want the criminals to figure out that a cop, unorthodox as he was, could not kill a perp in cold blood.  
The guy under his arms started to squirm, and he put a little more weight on the elbow in the kid's back. The others were shifting from foot to foot, and he saw one starting to move toward his gun. In a flash, Hanson had the 9mm trained on him.  
"Don't even think about it kid." His voice was cool, belying how nervous he was about the fact that he was sorely outnumbered. "You're in enough trouble as it is."  
"What would you know about it cop?" The kid with blue hair sneered. "Whether we go to jail, or not, we're already dead." The others nodded their heads, but Tom felt no sympathy. They were trying to play on his emotions, but it was not going to work.  
"Tell me who's the leader, and maybe I can get you a deal." Hanson doubted it, considering one kid had already died from using the heroin being supplied at the school, but it was worth a shot.  
"Not a chance man," the kid in orange trembled. "Jail can't even keep us safe from him."  
"Well, you're about to find out whether that's true or not," Hanson said as sirens rescinded in the distance. The three punks' faces became frightened masks of who they really were. Hanson realized that they were truly afraid of the retribution their boss would exact upon them. He tried one more time.  
"Look, we can protect you a lot more than you think, especially if you give us a name." One of the kids opened his mouth, then closed it just as quickly. The matter was taken out of Hanson's hands as three officers apprehended the three. Tom felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up through guarded eyes.  
"Could you use some of these?" Doug held out a pair of handcuffs and Hanson took them quickly. Once the fourth guy was safely in a cop car, Tom looked at Penhall through narrowed eyes.  
"Where the hell were you?" The anger and apprehension from the day seeped into the question, and it didn't escape his partner.  
"Didn't want to break your cover before the right moment," answered Doug as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. This only angered Hanson more, and tired as he was he could not bite back a quick retort.  
"Well they were about to break me Doug." Hanson walked away haggardly, leaving Penhall wondering what in the world he had said wrong.  
  
Just Part 1 guys, I'm setting up the story 


	2. Apologies

Tom walked into his apartment and shut the door, falling against it. Running a hand through his dark hair, he sighed heavily. Moving to the couch, he picked up the phone and dialed Penhall's number.  
"Yeah?" a sleepy voice croaked on the other end.  
"Hey Doug, this is Tom." There was a silence, so Tom jumped headfirst into his apology. "Sorry about earlier. I was a head case. Guess I was stressed."  
The chuckle on the other end made him release a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "It's okay man," Penhall intoned. "I should'a been there quicker anyway. Sorry bout that."  
"So we're cool?" Hanson asked.  
"Yeah, unless you get off the phone and let me get some sleep." Penhall yawned into the phone and Hanson laughed.  
"Okay, but you owe me." Hanging up the phone, Hanson moved toward his room confident that he could actually get some sleep now.  
  
* * *  
Judy Hoffs and Harry Ioki walked the dark streets of L.A. looking to the left and right every so often to check if anyone noticed them. They were dressed in jeans, and Harry had a grunge T-shirt on while Judy sported a tight blue top. His hair was spiked in the front, and her hair was in a ponytail at the side of her head. To those passing, they looked like any other minority couple out past curfew.  
"You know?" Hoffs turned to Ioki. "You don't blend in very well with the high school crowd anymore."  
Harry kept in step with her as they turned down an alley on their way to an underground club. "What are you talking about?" he asked with a perplexed look on his face.  
"I mean, how old are you now?" Judy looked on bemused as Harry looked up, counting in his head. "25 right?" she supplied for him.  
"Yeah, I guess," he said and shrugged. "What does that have to do with anything?"  
"You're getting old!" Judy giggled as she entered the club. Harry stopped just outside the door. Looking at the retreating back, he just smiled and shook his head in exasperation, then followed his partner into the thumping music and young crowd.  
  
* * * "What have you got for me?" Fuller asked expectantly, searching the faces of the four officers in front of him. Hanson was the first to speak. "None of the teens from the drug bust will talk. Someone's got em scared for their lives. I think their boss is pretty powerful, which means he may be one of the hard hitters we've been after for a while. I'm going through all of our files, but none of them fits this kind of ring. If this guy is new, he needs to be taken down fast." He looked over at Penhall to see if he agreed and he shook his head in consent. Fuller also nodded then turned to Hoffs and Ioki. "And what about you two?" he moved behind his desk and took a sip of coffee while waiting for their report. "Well, Coach," Ioki started, using Hanson's nickname for the captain, "we found a crowd of users at the club, but the seller was just another kid. The heroin was the same mix as that found by Hanson and Penhall, but the kid also won't talk." Hanson's eyebrows raised when he heard about the heroin match. This meant that this guy was not just pushing at the uptown schools they had been looking into, but all over L.A. That kind of drug ring was the most profitable, and the mastermind usually had a lot more at stake, making them very dangerous. And now they had busted two of his business fronts. Whoever was orchestrating the illegal drug distribution was not going to be happy. Apparently, this thought was crossing everyone else's minds; their foreheads were wrinkling and Fuller's eyes narrowed. "Maybe you four should move on to new cases until things cool down," he suggested, already holding up his hand to Hanson's protest. "I know. But I can't risk sending you out there on this now that they know who you are." The four of them nodded glumly, and shuffled out of the office.  
  
* * * Once Hanson reached his desk, he kicked the corner in anger. I was so close! He thought in anger. We have to catch this guy. If we don't, how many more kids are gonna die? 


	3. Revelations

Info on parts before.  
  
2 weeks later  
* * *  
Doug sharpened his pencil slowly, watching Hanson talk to the pretty girl in the middle of the classroom. They'd been trying to infiltrate the group of kids they suspected of selling the arms, and this girl was the leader's girlfriend. Penhall rolled his eyes as Hanson really laid it on thick. The teen was blushing and smiling flirtatiously, and Penhall had to suppress a laugh. Hanson may have been the hunk in the halls, but he still fumbled over his words in front of real women.  
Hanson saw Doug smirk out of the corner of his eye and set his lips in a thin line. It's not like he's doing any work, he thought. The girl he had been talking to a moment ago was nice enough, but she was shallow and vacuous. Shame, he thought to himself. She was definitely a looker.  
"What'd ya get?" Doug whispered from behind him as everyone took his or her seats.  
"Not much," Hanson answered, pulling out a binder that still had some history notes in it from the last case. "She's just the trophy girl. Don't think she'd understand much of anything anyway if he did confide in her."  
Doug chuckled at Hanson's disdain for the teen. There was almost disappointment in his voice.  
Penhall took out his own piece of paper and started scribbling notes on it. He listed everything they knew about the arms dealer so far, as well as the kids distributing. They were all upper middle class, and the pattern was starting to look very familiar. Then it hit him. A name one of the teens had mentioned struck him. He nudged Tom on the shoulder, and then pointed toward the door. This just couldn't wait.  
Once escaping the teacher's look of disapproval as they headed to the "Nurse's Office," Doug pulled Tom into an empty adjacent corridor.  
"What Doug? I was really starting to get into the French Revolution," Tom joked with a smirk.  
"I just remembered something very interesting. Think back to our last case. What was the supposed leader's name?"  
"I don't know, I think maybe Rock, or Rocks, some funky name like that. Why? We're supposed to not even talk about that case, especially in a public place like this." Tom frowned and started back to class when Doug grabbed him sharply and turned him around. Now they were both scowling.  
"Listen to me, damn it. Now, what is the leader's name here?" Doug gave Hanson a moment as he calmed down. Tom had just started walking away, and Penhall was shaken by that lack of faith, miniscule as it may be. They were partners. Partners don't walk away from each other.  
Hanson looked away for a moment as he racked his brain. "Score?" he finally answered.  
"Exactly," Penhall said, jumping from foot to foot. "Now think about it. Say rocks backward, and don't think about the spelling."  
Tom said it over and over in his mind until something clicked. His eyes grew two sizes bigger, and he gasped at the inclination.  
"Ohmigod, Doug, you know what this means?" Doug nodded fiercely until they both heard the resounding of a gun hammer being cocked. 


	4. Capture

Info on parts before.  
  
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," a blond-headed boy with a nine millimeter shook his head at the officers. "Took you long enough boys."  
Doug and Tom rose their hands in the air slowly. Already both were looking for different escape routes.  
"You two," the youth said cockily, "have been a pain in our sides. Ever since that drug bust we have been just waiting for you guys to make a slip up. Lo and behold, the two of you at the end of a gun."  
"Don't know what you think you're doing Wayne, but I can promise you it's not a good idea. You don't know your boss. You're the tool, and he'll throw you away like the others as soon as you've served your purpose." Penhall kept talking with the hopes that the punk wouldn't notice Tom slipping closer and closer to the door on their right.  
"Oh Doug," the kid replied swinging the gun to cover Tom. "You talk too much. And now," he waved them by with the firearm, "we are expected somewhere. Hanson, come walk in front of me. Penhall, anything goes wrong on our way outta here, and you won't have a partner for long."  
Hanson glanced apologetically and Doug as he went to stand in front of the kid. The cold metal of the nine mil sent a shiver down his spine. It never got easy to have a gun pointed at you.  
The trio walked slowly down the hall toward the two doors that would lead to freedom. Doug kept anticipating opening those double doors. Maybe they could distract the kid and make a run for it. To where he didn't know. They had to have people all over the place with an organization that went that deep. Unfortunately, the boy had a firm grip on one of Hanson's arms, and Penhall could see the gun digging into his partner's back. They'd have to time this just right, and it just wasn't worth the risk.  
Bright sunlight made them all squint once they were outside. The kid turned to Doug and handed him a pair of keys.  
"Walk over to the car and unlock the trunk."  
Doug did as he was told, but didn't like the way things were turning out. If they were forced to get into this car, they'd lose any control they ever had over the situation.  
"Now tie him up Tom." The kid's use of his first name made Hanson's blood boil, but there was nothing he could do about it as the gun was moved from his back to aiming point blank at Penhall's skull. He finished tying Penhall up as loosely as possible with the kid watching, and, with sorrowful eyes, pushed Doug into the trunk and locked it, as ordered.  
"Your turn." The kid waved him over, and he approached cautiously. Right when the kid moved the gun to start tying his hands, he jerked suddenly, sending the gun flying.  
"You son of a bitch!" Wayne yelled, his face red with fury. He attacked Tom with his fists, Tom weaved and ducked, leaving the kid punching nothing but air. Hanson brought a sharp uppercut to the kid's chin, and Wayne fell like a log.  
"That's right you asshole," Tom panted. "You don't screw with cops." He was reaching into the kid's pocket for the keys when there was the unmistakable crack of a gun firing. Hanson turned just in time to see Score handling the thrown firearm when fire pierced his shoulder with unabridged agony. He screamed once, then fell, not feeling the ground as his vision faded to black. 


	5. Not Alone

Info on earlier chapters.

Doug heard the crack of a gunshot and craned his head until his ear was against the side of the truck. Tom's scream of pain brought sheen of sweat to his brow more so than the hot cramped quarters. His heart nearly stopped when that scream was cut short by a thud.

"Tom? TOM!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, tears coming to his eyes in anger and fear when there was no answer. The car shifted weight as other people got in, and a rotten odor filled the space as the car was started. Penhall could only pray Tom was still alive and had somehow gotten left behind, away from whatever fate awaited him.

Tom's first sense as he regained consciousness was of something digging into his back. Damn, but he had gone to sleep in his clothes again was the first thought to cross his mind. But wait, no... "Ahhhh!" he screamed out loud as fire lanced through his shoulder in an arc of agony. The present came rushing back in a torrent and he found himself lying in the backseat of the old Buick bound and gagged, his back digging painfully into the seatbelt. Sweat broke out on his brow, and he fingered his bonds, checking how tightly they were tied. He could barely move his fingers as all the circulation in his hand was cut off. He would not be escaping himself.

"Well Hanson," a blurry face made itself known to him in the front seat. Tom grunted against another wave of pain and stared at his kidnapper with defiance and raw pain in his eyes. "Glad you finally to join us."

Tom closed his eyes as a pothole jolted his shoulder and he sank back into darkness.

Harry Truman Ioki was about to cuff his partner upside the head. Judy was positive that the kid they were tailing was not involved with the exploitation of young girls at Westside High in pornography videos. _She_ believed they were following an innocent teenager, with the clues staring them blatantly in the face. It didn't bother him that she disagreed, they had been assigned to follow the girl, and he knew Hoffs always did her job. What was about to drive him absolutely nuts was the fact that she would not shut up about it.

"JUDY!" he finally exclaimed. "The evidence is all right there. She is leading these other girls to the source, and getting them involved with this stuff. Hey, I agree, she may be a victim herself, and got drawn in, but she's the best lead we've got. Give it a rest, huh?"

She looked on him with big eyes, and then settled her self back in her seat with a sigh. Harry rolled his eyes and kept tailing the blue convertible in front of him from a safe distance.

Hoffs started tugging on his sleeve silently, and he turned around with tired eyes.

"Judy, come on..." Ioki trailed off when he saw the suburban barreling toward them from the side. He slammed on the breaks and Judy let loose the scream that had been surfacing for the last few seconds. The car fishtailed and came to a rest with the help of a large dumpster. Stars exploded in front of Harry's vision when his head scheduled a meeting with the steering wheel. The next thing he was aware of was Judy screaming his name and a large man's lumbering form come into view. He noted the white nondescript van right before getting thrown in the back, and then nothing.

Judy screamed and kicked as she was pushed into the vehicle. Once the door was shut on her still struggling form, she crawled over to where her partner was lying, too still. There was blood running down his forehead, most likely from the collision, and he was pale, paler than he should have been. She patted his cheeks, and pried open his eyes, finally settling back for the drive after he reassured her with his efforts to get her to leave him alone to sleep. Hoffs had no idea where they were headed, but she swore she'd protect Ioki at any cost. _Any_ cost.


	6. Down for the Count

Captain Adam Fuller was getting worried. None of his officers had checked in, and it was nearing closing time for the Chapel. It wasn't like the quartet to leave him out of the loop, no matter how unorthodox they sometimes got. He was just about to call headquarters when the phone on his desk broke the oppressive silence. He picked it up instantly, eyes narrowing as he heard the telltale beeps of a scrambler.

"Hello?" he asked uncertainly.

"We have them Captain. Meet us in the Westside Park at 8:30 tonight, and you might get them back alive." The unidentified caller hung up just as abruptly as he spoke.

Fuller slammed the phone back into it's cradle. Everybody else in the building had already left, leaving Blowfish and him to close up. He was waiting for a report when he should have been looking for his colleagues.

"Damn it!" the man bellowed. He rubbed a tired hand over his face and picked up the phone again, dialing HQ.

Doug was almost free of his bonds. He had heard Tom yell upon his return to consciousness, but all had been quiet sense, levying an air of unease under the young cop. He struggled with his wrists, breathing slowly and shallowly in an attempt to conserve his air, when he finally heard a snap and brought his hands up to bear. His watch told him they had been in this car for over five hours and had only stopped once. He could only hope Hanson was still alive. Five hours with a gunshot wound that hadn't been treated would mean infection could have very well set in, and coupled with blood loss, could be more dangerous than the wound itself.

With a sense of urgency borne of desperation, Penhall started banging on the trunk of the old Buick when he couldn't find a trunk release on the outdated model. The car skidded to a stop and his head slammed into the back of the car. He heard car doors slam and a loud moan that sounded like it could only be his beleaguered partner. At least he was conscious, Doug thought with a surge of hope.

When sunlight filtered into the dark space, his eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the strong light. He was roughly pulled out and forced to his knees by the men. He yelled in pain from his cramped legs, and to alert Hanson that he was free. Doug hated having to spur Tom to action, but it was the only way for both of them to get out of there. When they forced his forehead to the bumper and his hands back behind him again, a crack split the air as if charged by lightning, and Tom Hanson stumbled to the back with the car holding him up. He brandished the .45 surprisingly steadily with his good arm.

"Let him go." The steely words left his mouth with none of the weakness that his body was betraying.

The two kidnappers looked at each other in disgust. Both officers noted that Score was not present, and that there must have been a switch off the last time they stopped. One with greasy black hair and beady eyes pointed back to Tom, who was noticeably trying to quell nausea as he held the gun on them.

"I though you said he was out. What happened to 'he's lucky to be alive' huh?" As the other one prepared to argue, they made the mistake both prisoners were waiting for. The one holding Penhall had released his hold, and paid for it with his consciousness. With him down for the count Doug turned to the other one to see him run into the woods. He was about to go after him when he saw Tom stumble and drop the gun.

Apparently, he had used up what little energy he had, and Doug noted the sweat dropping from the long dark bangs. He was barely able to catch Tom as he dropped. Penhall then realized how much just escaping their captors had taken out of Tom, and his heart dropped as he saw the blood on the younger mans jacket just below the collarbone. It appeared that the bullet had gone right through, and blood still dripped sluggishly down Hanson's back from the exit wound. Heat radiated from the shoulder and Doug knew that infection had indeed set in with a vengeance. As Tom's pain-glazed eyes rolled into his head he could only whisper a fervent prayer when the now familiar sound of a gunshot filled the air.


End file.
